Worth more than words
Bethel University senior Mu Ku Shi uses tattoo art, soccer to express himself in ways language can’t.
By Kathryn Kovalenko and Alina Farnsworth | Reporters
Mu Ku Shi, 7, poked a rose thorn into his hand. Ink from the inside of a broken pen slowly took shape beneath his skin as the sun set, casting a golden light over the refugee camp in Mae La Oo, Thailand. Shi sped up his pace. He needed to finish the tattoo before his sister came looking for him.
From 2000–2010, Shi’s days in the refugee camp were as dependable as the sun’s path across the sky. Go to school. Play games with friends using marbles, rubber bands and coins. Return home. His family, who fled the civil war in Thailand between the Knyaw people and Burmese army, couldn’t leave the camp without permission from the Thai military. But Shi could give himself a makeshift stick-and-poke tattoo.
“If I want to say something, I wouldn’t just say it, because I feel like the way I say it might be translated differently. I just express it with artwork and people can translate it however they want.” –Mu Ku Shi, Bethel University senior
Shi, who immigrated to the United States from a Thai refugee camp at age 10, sometimes finds himself at a loss for English words. However, art and soccer have provided spaces for him to express himself in a way spoken language can’t.
“If I want to say something, I wouldn’t just say it, because I feel like the way I say it might be translated differently,” Shi said. “I just express it with artwork and people can translate it however they want.”
On his first day at Mississippi Creative Arts Elementary School in St. Paul, with its brightly colored posters and hard plastic seats, Shi’s classmate whispered advice on how to ask to use the bathroom. At 10, Shi stumbled over the word “toilet,” the English phrase awkward in his mouth. The difference between “bathroom” and “toilet” was one of many new language rules he and his siblings had to learn.
“We all struggled with [the language barrier], but at the end of the day, we would make fun of our experiences and laugh about it,” Paw Moo, Shi’s 19-year-old sister, said.
Shi shared a room with three of his sisters when their family first immigrated to the U.S. The siblings would stay up late laughing and sharing stories in Knyaw as they navigated their new life.
Shi didn’t need any words to excel in elementary school art. Inspired by his friends back in Thailand who created colorful sketches of Power Rangers, he worked hard in art class, writing and illustrating a handmade book for his teacher. Titled “The Zoo,” the book was filled with drawings of animals and descriptions written in both Knyaw and English.
But outside of the classroom, Shi felt unexplained anger coloring his thoughts red. As he transitioned from elementary to middle school, he began to get into fights after the bell.
One particularly bad fight on the school bus, fueled by his friends’ shouts of encouragement, landed Shi in the vice principal’s office. He missed the last week of the school year and the class trip to Valley Fair. Still, Shi ignored his parents’ lectures and continued to spend time with the same rebellious friend group.
“Not listening to people, just doing my thing, was a lot of the times what got me in trouble,” Shi said. “I remember, like, the moment of realization that came to me pretty hard.”
He doesn’t recall how the conversation with his mother started, only how it ended — with a biting tone filled with the frustration he had bottled up. The shocked and hurt look on his mother’s face. Until that moment, Shi hadn’t even realized how harsh his words had been.
His heart dropped. How long have I been acting like this?
Shi made up for the argument with a pot of flowers for his mother, an unfamiliar American custom. But his anger wasn’t resolved so easily.
In eighth grade, as many of his friends began to fall into drug use and addiction, Shi looked for a better way to spend his time. So he joined the Washington Technology Junior High soccer team. On the team, he made friends from Mexico and Morocco who were also adapting to language differences. A hand raise. A nod. A look to the left. It was all they needed to communicate on the field.
Shi’s schedule continued to overflow with sports in high school — soccer, volleyball, wrestling and golf. They helped clear his mind, and provided him with a goal-oriented community. Also, during his senior year of high school, Shi received his first tattoo from a friend who ran a business from his home. He began to explore the art of tattooing.
“I do think that his passion for art and his passion for soccer changed a lot of the ways he was living,” Tu Lor Eh Paw, Shi’s childhood friend said.
As Shi moved on from Como Park High School in St. Paul to Bethel University, he expressed his emotions through sketching tattoos, painting and creating fashion designs. In the summer of 2022, Shi began his tattoo business, Mu Ku Tats. He started by giving his customers tattoos on his front porch but has since moved to an at-home studio.
“If I hadn’t developed more of my artistic mind,” Shi said, “I don’t think I would pursue higher education at all.”
Shi brings this curiosity and his sketchbook into his daily life. When someone’s comment inspires him, he writes the quote down and later creates a drawing in the margins. This practice of making something deep out of passing conversations has earned him the nickname “the Philosopher” among his friends at Bethel.
“You might ask him if he wants to go to the dining center and get a salad. And two minutes later, you’re in a deep conversation about agricultural rights,” said Carly Miller, Shi’s friend and Urban Village coworker.
Shi found a safe space at The Urban Village, a nonprofit organization in St. Paul that supports Knyaw youth as they find their passions and connect with their culture. He began an internship there in January 2023 but has found refuge at the organization since its creation in 2019.
Minnesota has the largest Knyaw community in the country. Shi uses his humor and creativity to design programs at The Urban Village and form relationships with Knyaw youth in St. Paul. Every Tuesday and Thursday, he helps Knyaw high school students with their homework from 5–8 p.m.
“How do you even wrap your mind around that from someone who’s experienced all that he has? It’s pretty spectacular because he has every right to be selfish.” — Jesse Phenow, Co-Executive Director of The Urban Village
Much of Shi’s artwork reflects Knyaw culture and memories from his childhood in Mae La Oo. Shi hopes to bring awareness to the civil war in Thailand through his tattoo business and clothing brand. He plans on working with The Urban Village to financially support the Knyaw community locally and abroad.
“How do you even wrap your mind around that from someone who’s experienced all that he has?” Urban Village Co-Executive Director Jesse Phenow asked. “It’s pretty spectacular because he has every right to be selfish.”
Shi’s favorite tattoo is one he gave himself — a swallow bird on his forearm. Swallows fly throughout the entire day, uncontrolled and unburdened by problems on the ground. As he picks up the tattoo gun, Shi feels the same freedom.
